twisted // H.S

09

"Pick up the pace asshole, we still have to make the chili." I cuss at him. My fly aways bounce up and down in front of my face as I cut the apples. The knife in my hand begging to put me out of my misery.

"I'm trying," Manny huffed throwing the bread pan into the oven. The kitchen is dimly lit by the overhead light above us. It flickers every 30 seconds.

yes I've been counting.

Its been 27 minutes since Zayn left the room. 1,620 seconds since he told us he was running to use the restroom. He must've gotten lost almost the way, stumbled into some guards, or even fell into the toilet. I find myself pondering over the fact that for the past two weeks he magically has to use the restroom right after the sun goes down. I've mentioned my suspicions to Manny a few times, but am quickly shut down.

His response always being, "Maybe he has a poop schedule."

I know something is up with Zayn. Even though I told Manny that I trust his judgement, I don't.  I've always had a sense for calling out a bad person when I see one. As much as I want to hate Zayn, I find myself wanting to be accepted by him. Maybe it's the way he's always checking on Manny, the crinkle above his brow that pops out when he laughs, Or even the stupid stories he tells us about his past life. Nonetheless, I find myself starting to like him?

Right on que, as If he knew I was thinking about him, Zayn stumbles into the room. His apron is slung over his shoulder as he runs his hands through his hair.

"Sorry guys, won't happen again." He smiles, walking over to the counter. Manny instantly lights up, standing up straighter, and brushing the sweat off his forehead.

"Start on the chili would ya?" I reply rolling my eyes. He gives me a small nod before grabbing an arm full of chili cans sprawled out on the island. He stumbles into Manny as he drops them onto the counter.

The kitchen is somewhat silent, the only sound coming from chopping fruits, oven doors, and an automatic can opener. We usually don't talk very much when he comes back from his 'restroom break'. It could be because of our rush to get dinner done before Kein comes home, or because there's no more excuses for anyone to say.

I find myself speaking up first, "So Manny tells me you have a poop schedule."

Zayn coughs loudly as he turns in my direction. "A poop schedule?"

Manny makes direct eye contact with me, burning holes into the back of my head. He mouths, "What the fuck grace."

I shrug my shoulders, tipping the cutting board and sliding the apples into a bowl. "There's no shame here. You just disappear every time we're on kitchen duty so."

Zayn shrugs. "Yeah uh, I do have a poop schedule."

"Mhm." I hum. Manny doesn't say anything to attest the fact that he was right. He subtlety gives me a side smile. I roll my eyes, walking over to the table. I set the bowl of apples down in the center of the table, adjusting the surrounding plates.

"Okay I did my part." I said turning back to face them. "I'm gonna go change for dinner. You guys think you can hold down the fort?"

"You only did the apples," Manny replies in annoyance.

I furrow my eyebrows, "Uh I set the table too."

Zayn tips his head, looking past me. He shrugs, "Fair enough."

Manny's head whips in his direction, "Um no not fair enough, we still have to finish the chili, and the bread isn't done."

"Uh, yeah i'd love to stay and help with that but I actually have to attend this council dinner." I reply with my hands hoisted on my hips. His eyes dip to my knuckles. They've almost completely healed, the only bruise left logged right on my thumb. I push my hands into my back pockets.